


For Survival And Everything Else

by EllanaSan



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M, Minor Character Death, not particularly joyful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:25:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt : AU in which Zach and Gray's parents also go to the park with them but then gets brutally murdered by dinosaurs. Claire is now their legal guardian and she and Owen suddenly finds themselves with a pair of kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For Survival

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt : Okay I have a jurassic world prompt for you. AU in which Zach and Gray's parents also go to the park with them but then gets brutally murdered by dinosaurs. Claire is now their legal guardian and she and Owen suddenly finds themselves with a pair of kids (Am I a bad person for wanting to read this? Especially since I'd love to see it from the start with the eaten-by-dinos part) Have fun.
> 
> I think this might suck a lot and I’m not sure that’s what you wanted at all but I did my best and it’s Shianne’s birthday so, happy birthday @Elizabethbaenks and have a maybe sucky Clawen story in celebration! (I can do a special prompt for you if you like instead ‘cause let’s be real I’m not sure about this ^^)

You would think seeing your sister and her husband being brutally killed by pteranodons would be something difficult to forget. 

It is actually very easy. 

There is no time to stop and reflect. 

No time to feel guilty about managing to save Owen Grady from the same fate or the kiss that follows.

No time to  _feel_  at all. 

Claire simply shuts down and acts on instinct. Her instinct tells her to grab her nephews and follow Owen and so that’s what she does. 

And she simply forgets. 

It slips her mind.

After all, Karen and her husband weren’t even supposed to be there, they weren’t supposed to come with the kids. They had only relented because Gray had insisted and insisted – or so Karen had claimed on the phone when she had asked Claire for more tickets, there was also the divorce matter in play but Claire had been too busy to  _ask_  her sister, thinking there would be time later and now there is no time, no time at all. 

Now, there are raptors and an Indominus Rex on the loose and Claire rolls with it all, even goes as far as leading a T-Rex with a flare (that’s the photo that will make the headlines tomorrow but she doesn’t know it yet) because they need more teeth and _why not_? What’s a little more crazy to an already ridiculously mad day? All the time she runs from the huge T-Rex, there is a bubble of hysteric laughter stuck in her throat because _Claire Dearing is being chased by a T-Rex and she’s wearing high heels._

Then, when at last there are no more dinosaurs – she would never think about them as  _assets_  again, she has learnt her lesson the hard way – there are injured and non injured people to take care of : park’s employees, customers, officials from Masrani Corp, and, above all, her nephews. 

Gray is the one who collapses first, on the ferry back to the mainland, in ugly sobs that shake his whole body and Claire is at a loss for what to do so she hesitantly wraps her arms around his small frame and holds on for dear life. She tries to tell him everything will be okay but the words won’t pass her mouth. Probably because they’re lies. 

Nothing will be okay. 

His mother is dead. 

Her sister is dead. 

She keeps repeating the words in her head but it doesn’t sink in just yet. It feels remote, distant. There is too much to do for her to ponder that mystery. She tries to reach for Zach but the teenager withdraws from her and she figures that some comes to term with reality quicker than others. It's funny, really, because Claire has always been the down-to-earth, no-nonsense kind of girls and you would expect her to accept disasters quickly and move on from them. Claire, she's finding out, is very good at adaptation but not so good at acceptance.

She doesn't know what to do with a weeping child and she doesn't know what to do with a shocked teenager, so she adapts. She looks up and searches the room with her eyes until she meets his. She doesn't know at which point they have become able to talk without actually talking but he's at her side in seconds, answering her silent distressed call, leaving the nursing of an old man's torn shoulder to a first aid qualified stranger. Owen, it turns out, knows what to do with shocked teenagers, so she hums a half forgotten lullaby and rocks Gray softly while Owen talks to Zach in a soft voice, all the while gripping her hand hard in his.

When the ferry arrives, Owen simply scoops up an exhausted sleeping Gray and there is no question as to where he is headed. He follows Claire semi-confident footsteps and doesn't comment when she books them a suite at the nearest hotel. She has no money but the company must have thought of that and called in advance because no one even asks for a credit card. 

There are two bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms connected by a sitting room. Gray doesn't wake up when Owen places him down on the couch and Zach declines when she suggests he goes lie down in one of the bedrooms. She doesn't insist. She would rather have both of them in her line of sight anyway. That's why she tells Owen to take the first shower, she’s not ready to be parted from her nephews. That and because...

"I have to call my mother."

He nods and glances at Zach who's still awake but well on his way to crash next to his brother even though the couch is too small for the both of them. Zach doesn’t seem more able to leave Gray than she is able to let go of the both of them though.

"Maybe wait five minutes." he advises. 

It's a good advice and she follows it, using the time to peel her heels from her blistered feet and waiting until she is sure Zach is sleeping to grab her cell phone. She takes a second to be amazed such a small and thin thing survived the day. The screen is barely scratched. She shouldn't be surprised though. Technology is more resistant than people nowadays.

The second she hears her voice her mother erupts in relieved sobs and it occurs to Claire, suddenly, that her mother has probably only been worried about her. Has Karen told her they were going to the park? Does their mother remember it was that particular day? Does she know she has almost lost her whole family and not just the daughter who doesn’t call enough?

"Mom, Karen..."

And that's when, of all possible moments, the truth sinks in. 

Karen is dead. 

Karen is _dead_.

She doesn't get the words out but her mother doesn't need her too and she doesn't know who is crying the loudest, she only knows she wishes she could bury her face in her mother's eternal woolen cardigan. Someone gently detaches the phone from her hand and she watches, unable to stop crying as Owen crouches in front of her in nothing else than a towel secured around the hips, maintaining eye contact at all costs and speaking in the same soft voice he used with his raptors. She doesn't understand all the words but she does catch some.

"The boys are alright, Mrs Dearing. She's alright too. I will stay with them don't worry. I'm very sorry for your loss." 

She doesn't resist when he draws her into his arms, she presses her face in his neck until it hurts and she lets him hold her through the sobs that wreck her body, only tightening her hold on him when it dawns on her that he has lost part of his family on that island too. 

"The boys..." she whispers in a rough voice once she has cried all the tears she could cry. She's exhausted but she doesn't think she could sleep even if she tried. They have end up on a heap on the floor, with her almost sitting in his lap and it’s uncomfortable and should be awkward but she can’t even begin to worry about that. "Oh my god... The boys..." 

That's something she hasn't yet considered. 

"It's okay. They're fine for now." Owen tells her softly, running his fingers through her tangled hair. "Tomorrow's another story but we will deal with it when it comes."

The _we_ unknots something in her stomach but...

"My mother can't take them. She's too old, she's..." Her sentence trails off. "Oh my god..."

"It's okay." Owen repeats, rubbing her back.

But it's not. It's not because...

"I don't know how to take care of kids!" she exclaims, working herself in a panic. "I..."

"Claire, we'll figure it out, okay?" Owen says, forcing her away from his chest. He frames her face with his hands until his green eyes are all she can see. "We will figure it out."

"We?" she sniffs. 

It's asking a lot of someone who is not – despite her nephews' claims – her boyfriend. She doesn't even know what they are, a disaster of a date and a frantic kiss don't make a relationship. But perhaps a mad dash through prehistoric woods and being chased by monsters with claws and teeth do.

There is no hesitation in his voice when he answers her. "Yeah. We stick together, right?"

That last question _does_ sound hesitant, vulnerable. 

She realizes he doesn't have a pack anymore and maybe he doesn't know how to live without one any more than she knows how to take care of children. 

"For survival." she whispers. 

"For survival." he repeats. “And everything else.”


	2. And Everything Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was going to be a one-shot but… you know… Those things happen. I wrote more. So here… I’m still not sure it’s worth putting out there but… Maybe some of you enjoy it =)

Karen and Scott’s funerals are the fourth funerals she attends that week. She questions the fact they would be buried together when they had been so close to a divorce but her mother replies that she doesn’t want to upset the boys further and since Claire has been only too happy to let her take care of the arrangements, she relents.

The boys aren’t doing well. Not that she knows what to do about that. Masrani Global has mailed her a list with potential therapists on it – all approved by the company, naturally – and she thinks it might be a good idea but she doesn’t dare suggest it yet. Zach is still withdrawn and Gray never gets further than two feet away from Owen.

She wants to cry as Karen’s coffin is lowered in the damp earth but she can’t. She thinks she has cried too much lately, her tears are all dried. Instead, she squeezes the hand that slips into hers, palm against palm, and thanks the heaven for having sent Owen Grady her way.

He is not good at taming only raptors.

She feels guilty when she thinks about everything he has done for her family compared with how little she has done for him. He has thrown himself into the mess head first and Claire suspects they’re still standing only because of him. He takes care of the boys and she takes care of the fallouts, the press and the endless interviews with Masrani officials. Nobody has yet suggested what happened is her fault and that they should load everything on her but she is waiting, ready to hire a battalion of lawyers if the company only hints at that. She can’t afford to go to prison, her nephews need her. Or maybe they just need Owen, she muses, as she watches him place a hand on Zach’s shoulder. Zach barely talks to her – she doesn’t know if he blames her or not, she can’t say she would begrudge him the right to – but she’s glad he feels comfortable enough to let the guard down around Owen. He needs someone.

It’s not healthy, what they’re doing. She knows that. He’s compensating the loss of his pack, replacing his raptors with her and her nephews, and she is handling every business aspect of the situation with a detachment that borders on clinical if only to prove to herself that she is in control of the situation. She isn’t, you never are, she has learnt that lesson too.

It’s not healthy but it’s been a week and a half since they’ve come back from Isla Nublar and Claire is still jumping awake every night, her heart racing, certain she can hear the loud stomping of a hungry T-Rex chasing after her. Healthy, she has decided, is relative.

She only knows the funerals are over when a hand is placed at the small of her back and nudges her gently back in the direction of the car. Owen frowns a little but she flashes him a quick reassuring smile and follows her mother who has an arm around each of her grandsons.

The hand remains at the small of her back, its weight reassuring and comforting at the same time, and she doesn’t comment on it.

The wake is another sort of nightmare entirely. There is no putting any distance between herself and concerned relatives. There is no acting detached when her mother is sobbing in the living-room on the couch Owen has been sleeping on ever since they have come back to the States. There is no treating everything like a business problem when Gray is in the garden kicking her mother’s dearly loved garden gnomes down to the ground while Owen tries to talk to him through his anger or when Zach has locked himself in Karen’s old room that the boys now share. It isn’t long before she abandons her mother to the sympathetic crushes of Aunt Angelica and seeks refuge in her own old room with its out of date posters she hates.

When the knock comes on the door, she doesn’t answer. The door opens anyway and Owen pops his head in. “You’re okay?”

That’s an odd question. A stupid one if there ever was too and he must realize it because he rolls his eyes at his own stupidity, steps inside and closes the door behind him. For a second he stands there, apparently uncertain, clearly uncomfortable in the black suit she has bought for him because between the two of them they have only a handful of torn clothes and you definitely can’t walk around wearing rags nowadays. He has made a fuss when she has bought the both of them clothes –as a concession, she has even invested in a pair of those awful board shorts he likes so much – annoyed at himself for still not having access to money to help or pay her back. Everything he owns is still on that island, including his IDs and credit cards. He still hasn’t made the official requests for new ones and she is scared to ask if that means he plans to go back.

His hands are buried deep in his pockets as he stares at her. She stares right back, wondering where they should go from there.

Nothing is over yet. There will be more investigations, more interviews, more PR to do... But as far as her personal tragedy goes, Karen’s funerals mark a key point and he has done more than he ought to already. She can’t stop thinking about the fact he doesn’t seem to want to settle down : it’s not just his tacit refusal to ask for replacements of what essentials he has lost on the island, it’s the fact he hasn’t yet talked about looking for another job or a place to live... She doesn’t know if she’s relieved or scared by that last part. She’s terrified one day she will wake up to find the couch empty and him gone. She’s terrified he will do something stupid or mad and that one morning she will learn through Masrani Global that he has volunteered to go back on Isla Nublar to supervise the containment of the dinosaurs – yes, they are already talking about that even if it won’t happen for a few months yet, time for everything to settle down, and, yes, even though no one has actually mentioned his name in front of her, she knows he is on the top of their list for that like her name is on the top of the list to oversee the whole reopening – she is terrified he will go look for his old pack and leave his new one behind.

“Claire...” he starts.

His green eyes are suddenly avoiding hers and she knows she won’t like whatever he has to tell her. She stands up and turns her back to him, taking off her pearl earrings and dropping them on the old jewelry box she has left behind on her desk when she has left for college. Good thinking. At least, she still has some jewelry left even if it comes from childhood birthdays and half of it is fake.

“We need a house.” she declares without leaving him time to finish his sentence.

It’s the logical thing to do. She has been thinking about it for a few days now. They can’t stay at her mother’s much longer, it is cramped and her mother needs peace and quiet to grieve after what happened to Karen and... The boys need a room each, she needs a room that doesn’t make her feel like she’s fifteen and Owen can’t sleep on a couch forever. Money isn’t actually a problem, she has made enough over the years. Being the park operations manager for Jurassic World ensured a prosperous bank account if nothing else.

“Claire...” he tries again and he sounds uneasy this time.

“I’ve been thinking and I think we should buy around here.” she continues, still keeping her back turn to him. She takes off her pearl necklace and drops it with the earrings. “Maybe closer to the beach? Or maybe we should go somewhere else. Somewhere new. We should ask the boys what they would like best.”

She can move to almost everywhere. There isn’t a state Masrani doesn’t have an annex in and if they don’t, she can always work from home. She doesn’t need to sit in a huge empty office to type condolences letters anyway or to write report after report of what went wrong exactly. Everyone knows what went wrong anyway. InGen tried to play God and that didn’t turn out how they expected.

The hand that falls on her shoulder makes her close her eyes and she swallows back the frightened tears that want to slip through. She forces herself to lift her chin high. She is Claire Dearing and Claire Dearing doesn’t need a man who is not even her boyfriend – she doesn’t even know what they are truthfully, they have never discussed the kiss they shared or why it seems impossible for their paths to separate; she is still anxious when she leaves his side for a short hour and he tenses every time she’s not in his immediate sight. They gravitate around each other but she doesn’t know if it’s because of what they went through or if it is something else. Her mother, while completely smitten with Owen’s charm from the start, keeps asking questions she doesn’t know how to answer : Gray has told her Owen is her boyfriend and she is puzzled by the fact he’s sleeping on the couch. Claire doesn’t know how to explain the only time they have shared a bed was in Costa Rica and they were so exhausted there was no risk of anything happening.

“Barry signed up to go back.” he says at last, sounding pained and regretful and a lot of things in between. “I just got his text.”

Her lips wobble but she bit down on it hard enough to draw blood. “I see.”

She kicks off her new black high heels and glances with longing at the pajamas she has dropped on the foot of her bed that morning. She’s itching to get out of that dress. Black was never her favorite color and she has worn it to enough funerals since she has bought it that she feels like burning it as soon as she won’t need it anymore.

“There’s a job for me if I want it.” he continues.

“I know.” she whispers and finally turns around to face him, forcing a smile on her lips. “I hope you find her.”

She knows just how much Blue means to him. She knows that while losing the others has killed him inside, Blue was always his favorite. His beta. She knows from enough late nights spent chatting in low murmurs in the kitchen because neither of them felt like going to bed, she has heard enough stories of baby raptors to last a lifetime. She loves hearing him talk about his girls. She doesn’t like the pain in his voice when he does.

“I didn’t say yes yet.” he winces, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know if I want to go back or not. What I want to know is if... Claire, do you want me to stay?”

For a second, she remains frozen on the spot. What sort of question is that? _Of course_ , she wants him to stay. She _needs_ him to stay.

“That wouldn’t be very fair of me to ask that.” she counters. “I know how much... I know you must be worried about her.”

“I’m also worried about you and it’s not a competition.” he shrugs. “Look, you and the boys... I need to know if you want me to back off or not because they’re getting attached to me and... If we have to cut this, we should do it now.”

“You’ve done a lot for us, Mr Grady, and if you want to leave then you should, naturally. You don’t owe us anything.” She tries not to make it sound like an accusation, she does, but...

“Back to Mr Grady, are we?” he sighs. “You know you’ve got this problem when you tries to put distance every time you think your feelings are going to get hurt?”

“You don’t know me that well.” she snaps and, this time, she doesn’t care if it sounds like an accusation.

“Yeah, see, I think I’m starting to.” he snorts and then shakes his head. “Claire, I’m not saying I want to go... I want to know if this is a short-time thing or if it’s long time because you’re not the only one who doesn’t want to get their feelings hurt.”

And suddenly, she realizes he doesn’t want to exchange his new pack for his old one, he is simply scared of losing everything again.

“Don’t leave us.” she asks without a single hesitation. “Me.”

For the first time since the island, his cocky smile comes back and it still does interesting things to her stomach.

“Okay.” he agrees. “So, this house you want to buy... Does it have a garden? We need room for the dog.”

“We are not getting a dog.” she counters immediately, knowing it is all absurd. They haven’t properly kissed yet and there they are, talking about houses and dogs and for the first time since the island, she relaxes.

“But, Claire...” he pleads in a whiny voice that reminds her of a child.

The dog topic somehow comes up again during dinner and, unsurprisingly, Gray sides with Owen. Zach answers with a shrug but she thinks she glimpses a brief spark of interest in his eyes and so she supposes they _are_ getting a dog after all. After dinner, her mother asks her if that means she is moving in with Owen and Claire simply nods that, yes, that’s exactly what she is doing and refuses to listen to any carefully constructed arguments that, perhaps, it is all going a little fast. By the time she lies down in her bed, her head is spinning with advices about traumatic events, rushing into things and unhealthy responses to tragedies... And yet there is still no doubt in her that it is the right choice not only for her but for her nephews. Owen anchors them all, make them feel safe, and they need that.

She wakes up screaming that night, her mind full of raptors, T-Rexes and Indominus monsters hunting after her and her nephews...

She tells herself she only wants a glass of water but she ends up in the living-room instead of the kitchen. Owen looks up when she steps in. The room is dark except for the soft glow of the TV but it is enough for her to see the haunted look on his face as he lies there on her mother’s couch, his blankets kicked off somewhere around his knees. She throws caution to the wind and climbs on the couch with him.

He’s taken aback, she can tell, because even though they have spent a few nights talking she has never initiated physical contact before. The couch is too small, it’s uncomfortable, but he moves to accommodate her and she ends up between his left side and the back of the couch, his arms wrapped around her and her head neatly tucked under his chin.

“I don’t want you to go back to that island.” she confesses. “ _Ever_. Only thinking about it, it makes me...”

“Okay.” he agrees simply. “I really just needed to know where we stand, Claire.”

“I’m sorry for Blue, I really am.” she continues. “But me, Zach and Gray, we can be your new pack. I know it’s not the same but...”

“I don’t need a new pack.” he tells her softly, petting her hair. “But I will take a family if I can get one. We stick together. All of us.”

“And here I thought it was a special thing between you and me.” she teases, nuzzling her nose against his neck tentatively.

“Aw, tequila and board shorts can be our special thing.” he mocks right back.

“There is nothing special about tequila and board shorts.” she argues, lifting her head to look at him.

He leans in slowly, leaving her plenty of time to run away, and brushes his lips with hers. “How about this? It could be our special thing…”

She think he wants a verbal answer but she kisses him instead.

It’s nothing like on the island.

There’s no _now or never_ feels to it. It’s unhurried, almost lazy, as if they have done that a hundred times before.

It’s perfect.

And she decides they _do_ need to stick together. Not for survival. For everything else.


End file.
